


Sterling Silver

by I_was_BOTWP



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Plot Twists, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Twisted, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:39:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_was_BOTWP/pseuds/I_was_BOTWP
Summary: When Pansy Parkinson's fashionable boutique helps Ginny Weasley outfit her bridesmaids, the shop can not keep up with the demand for certain hand-knit items. With Christmas just around the corner, everyone wants to purchase the hottest gift for their friends and family. Which is excellent news for their creator, Lavender Brown. Knitting has become an essential tool to help the war survivor work out her pent up aggression.





	Sterling Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Twistmas](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Twistmas) collection. 



> I wrote this for The Slytherin Cabal's Twistmas Fest. My fluffy prompt was: Hand knit scarf and hat. I hope you enjoy the darkness I found in it. I own nothing here besides the twisted plot.
> 
> Also, this story would not be nearly as good without the dedication of my amazing beta, HeartOfAspen. She likes to thank people with glitter. I am pretty sure she deserves a bottle of high end scotch.

Without any of the usual fanfare, a chic little boutique, situated just three doors down from Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley, opened on a Tuesday in late October.

In the week prior, a few curious passers-by had noted the thick brown shipping paper adorning the display windows from seam to seam, blocking their view within. Only a handful bothered to stop and read the small advertisement hanging on the door.

And this all suited the proprietors of the store just fine, each in their own way.

For the partner who would be their public face, there was the very real threat of backlash once she revealed her role. Waiting until the store was established gave her some small sense of agency. Pieces of her life continued to spin beyond her control - she needed this. Pansy Parkinson wanted the store to be successful in spite of her prior Death Eater sympathies.

For the partner who wished to remain silent, there was the hope of her role remaining overlooked. She planned never to show her face to the public, creating the accessories carried in the store in an undisclosed location. Broad acceptance of her seemed unattainable - making an income was her top priority. Lavender Brown needed the store to be successful in spite of her werewolf attack survivor status.

* * *

 

On the second day of business, Daphne Greengrass came in to browse. The tall waif of a blonde strode in during the middle of the morning when no other customers were around. Pushing her sunglasses up, the small crinkle of Daphne’s nose led Pansy to believe she was there either out of pity, or she was looking for gossip. Neither reason appealed to the fledgling shop owner.

“Hello, Daphne,” Pansy said, pasting a polite smile on her face. Quickly, she straightened some sheets of parchment full of sketches and numbers spread across the counter in front of her into a single neat stack.

Daphne’s look of surprise was as fake as Pansy’s smile. “Oh, is this _your_ store Pansy?” The acidic words dripped off Daphne’s tongue.

Biting the inside of her cheek, and vainly attempting not to let her façade falter, Pansy breathed in deeply through her nose. The calming scent of tulsi oil wafting through the store helped Pansy. Exhaling, she mentally reminded herself she needed people to want to come back. Including this twit.

“Feel free to look around. I’m here to answer any questions you may have,” Pansy told her smoothly.

Daphne's red heels clicked across the polished wood floor as she circled first one display table, then another. Evaluating the merchandise hung on a wall, Daphne slowed her pace, but did not stop to take anything down.

Picking up her quill, Pansy dipped it in her ink, then began to slowly add small details to an idea she had been working on before her former dorm-mate appeared.

Out of the corner of her eye, Pansy watched Daphne pick up a purse and flip it around to inspect it before opening the zipper to look inside. Pansy felt a bit of tension leave her shoulders. It was one of their nicest pieces - Daphne had a keen eye for fashion.

She held onto the clutch as she moved to the jewelry section. Fingering a few pieces, Daphne disdainfully spoke over her shoulder, “Is none of this _real_?”

“If you mean, is any of it Goblin-made, then no,” Pansy answered evenly, still making an attempt to be _nice_. Setting her quill down, she gave her full attention back to Daphne. “It’s everyday wear - sterling silver set with semi-precious stones.”

Daphne scoffed, “Semi-precious stones?”

“Each piece is one of a kind, exclusively handcrafted for our clients. And you aren't meant to buy just one,” Pansy continued patiently. “The necklaces you're looking at are meant to worn together in layers, mixed and matched, creating a new look each time. Let me show you.”

Pansy came over and selected three necklaces of varying lengths and with seemingly opposing designs. She held them out to Daphne, and when the other woman took them, Pansy summoned the mirror from the far end of the display.

A warm sense of pride suffused Pansy when Daphne’s eyes light up. The final effect felt had Daphne subtly preening, tilting her head first one way, then the other, to get a good view.

“Do you really expect witches to wear those giant gold hoops in their ears?” Daphne demanded, her nose in the air. Pansy was not fooled. Especially when none of the necklaces were returned to the table.

“Only a few will dare to. I sold a pair to Fleur Weasley already yesterday.” Pansy gauged the reaction to that nugget of gossip. She suspected Daphne was calculating not only the implications of the famous Veela being an opening day customer, but also whether she would be seen as a trend-setter if she bought a pair, too. Pansy considered it best not to be pushy on the earrings. “Have you ever heard of aviator sunglasses?”

* * *

 

People in the Muggle world often noticed Lavender’s scars. Artfully placed scarves could not cover everything. She noted strangers’ scrutiny of the purple lines marring her throat, moving up to her right jaw and cheek.

Most days she challenged the passers-by with a brave smile if they dared to meet her gaze after their double-take. Oftentimes she would receive a smile in return, and that was the end of it.

Today seemed to be that sort of day, she mused as she walked into a jewelry supply store in Covent Garden, where an exiting young woman grinned and said, “Thanks,” as Lavender held the door open for her.

She also had her bad days, such as the morning two weeks ago, when a good looking man who she felt sure would have flirted with her before the disfigurement, instead gave her a look of pity. She sometimes imagined ripping her blouse open to show the offending person the claw marks which trailed down her chest.

During the act of mauling Lavender, Fenrir Greyback had taken additional pleasure in savagely ripping into left her breast as he rutted against her hip through her school uniform. Only three people had ever seen those scars, and only one of them had guessed about the sexual act which had accompanied the creation of the deep gouges.

On her worst days, Lavender would barely make it to an alley or public loo where she could safely Apparate home. It was on those days she relived the battle, and could hear Fenrir's voice rasping a promise to come back for her later when he wouldn’t have to worry about being hexed from behind.

Still, with all of that, the Muggle world was a refuge for Lavender. In the Wizarding world, everyone knew exactly how she had gotten her scars and no one offered her a tremulous smile on the streets.

On the few occasions she had dared to go out in Diagon Alley, she had been met with coldness and fear. Former acquaintances pretended not to see. Older witches she had never met before pulled their children across the cobblestones to the other side of the street. Despite seeing werewolves as a necessary tool during the war, wizards who had supported the losing side sneered at her. Most of them thought they were being discreet, but some did not even bother to try. Sure, Parvati Patil would invite her round for tea occasionally, share all of the tidbits and scandals with her, but the visits ultimately felt more superficial than their teenage late-night common room conversations. It was at one of these afternoon get-togethers that Lavender found herself talking fashion with Pansy. The fact that Pansy had become her only close friend, still shocked Lavender.

And the irony of it all was that Lavender Brown was not a werewolf. After the war, she had received extensive counseling, which included support from Bill Weasley. He explained the similarities between their conditions. Taking the time to make sure she knew what to expect, he was kind and compassionate. His wife, Fleur, invited Lavender over for dinner. They warned her that she may be ostracized for a time, but people would come around. Seeing them with each other, happily married and starting a family, she let hope build. They had lied, or been blind. She was unsure which was worse.

Even now, after three years, Bill's youngest brother, her ex-boyfriend Ron, had not reached out to her. _Arsehole_.

Lavender caught herself growling as her thoughts lingered on Ron. She hastily cleared her throat as a cover, glancing around the store she stood in, and was relieved to note that she was one of only three customers. No one had been standing close enough to have noticed.

An itching sensation crept through her hand and she hastily dropped the dainty silver chains she had been holding just a bit too long into her basket. Silver did not burn Lavender as it would with a true werewolf, but rather created something akin to an allergic reaction with extended contact.

“Focus,” she whispered, berating herself. She had a lot to accomplish today on this shopping trip. Although she planned to use the handy ability to Apparate instead taking the tube, she would still be out for hours buying everything she and Pansy had agreed upon.

* * *

 

Having Ginny Weasley walk into the store was nearly the worst thing Pansy could imagine. Although she had managed to avoid this particular Weasley since the end of the war, she had not been so fortunate in doing the same with her brother, Ronald. If the vitriol he threw at Pansy when they had occasionally passed outside their respective stores was any indication of how the Weasley family viewed her, she failed to understand why it seemed Ginny was shopping here.

Unless she was not here to shop, but rather to seek revenge? Perhaps she thought Pansy did not deserve a second chance, contrary to what her solicitor had assured her as he helped her navigate the legalities of opening a business.

Girding her loins, Pansy straightened her back, and hid her trembling hands in the pockets of her lilac robe. “Hello.” Her voice cracked slightly - she hoped Ginny would not notice.

“Parkinson,” Ginny acknowledged her, adding a tight nod of her head. She stopped near the first round display table inside the door. Pansy watched Ginny’s eyes skim over the stacks of coin purses and neatly folded scarves in front of her, then dart around the rest of the shop. Perhaps they were both nervous.

“Can I help you find something?” she offered, her voice stronger than the first time. “Are you shopping for anyone in particular?”

Turning to look at her, Ginny bit her lip, considering. “Luna Lovegood told me you have some lovely items here, and I need to buy presents for my bridesmaids. I’m getting married in December,” she blurted out. After a beat, she needlessly added, “To Harry Potter.”

Loony Lovegood had been in the prior week and had bought five toe rings - three of them identical. When Pansy had asked if anything needed to be gift wrapped, Luna had politely declined, stating everything was for her.

Speculation had been running rampant for months now in the _Daily Prophet_ regarding the details of the upcoming nuptials between Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. Any part Pansy had in outfitting the bridal party would be a coup.

Pansy came around from behind the counter and moved towards the necklace display. “Tell me about their dresses,” she said shrewdly, excitement lacing her request, and a genuine smile stretching across her face. Her hands were no longer shaking.

It was the perfect thing to ask of the bride-to-be. Ginny described the dresses in minute detail: icy blue, sleeveless, plunging neckline, gathered waist, and a gauzy skirt down to the ankles. She finished off by explaining, “I wanted a holiday theme you see, but no reds. Clashes with my hair.” She consciously smoothed a few wayward strands. “We ended up with more of a wintery color scheme.”

“Who are your bridesmaids?” Pansy asked.

“Just Hermione and Luna. Harry didn’t want anything big.”

Deciding to take a chance, Pansy told her, “I have a fabulous idea for necklaces. But, I’ll need two days to get them ready. And it will only work if they wear their hair up.” Pansy arched a brow, waiting for Ginny to agree to the stipulation. When Ginny eagerly nodded, Pansy confidently began laying out her vision. “I’m thinking tiny crystals, clustered randomly, floating down their chests on gossamer strands, accentuating the neckline. We’ll create an illusion of snowflakes dusting their decolletage. I can give you a rough sketch now.”

Pansy glanced towards the main counter, thinking of the crisp stack of parchment and the ever-inking quill hidden below, stashed for the moments when inspiration hit. _In for a knut, in for a galleon,_ she resolved, meeting the younger witch's eyes. “However, first I want to show you two shawls that we have in the store now. Something graceful that won’t detract from the beautiful gowns you’ve described, but will rather enhance their wintery look.”

Over in another area there stood a small display of hand-knit items. Two airy shawls hung there; they were not quite white, the yarn being closer to silver. While they were not identical, each had a similar lattice pattern. Ginny reached out to touch one.

“Oooh, that’s so soft. What is it made from?” she asked, grabbing a corner to rub the yarn between her forefinger and thumb. Lifting the shawl up to admire the intricacy of it, she caught a ray of sunlight coming in through a display window. “Oh, and look at that! There’s a halo around it when the light lands on it. These are gorgeous!”

“They really are quite stunning, aren’t they?” Pansy answered.

Things were going well, which should have made Pansy ecstatic. Truthfully it did, but another part of her began to grow nervous again. A sense of trepidation overcame her, causing her to step back from the oblivious bride-to-be, who was now held the second shawl aloft. Covering her discomfort, Pansy walked towards the counter, saying, “Let me work up that design for you, Miss Weasley.”

“Ginny,” the other witch absently corrected her, still eyeing the knit items. “And I'll take these shawls.”

Thankfully, Pansy's hands remained steady enough to draw up the design she was picturing in her mind. Ginny joined her after a few minutes, draping the shawls onto the counter; she placed an additional scarf on top of them.

Pansy knew she did not need to draw an entire body, just a silhouette from neck to waist to give a sense of proportion - it was the details of the necklace that would seal the deal. Cocking her head to get a better angle for viewing, Ginny quietly watched as Pansy's quill moved across the parchment.

Upon finishing, Pansy chewed her lower lip, momentarily contemplating the picture. Inspiration struck, and she grabbed her wand, flicking it three times to add a spell before turning the sheet around to face Ginny.

“The charm doesn't quite do it justice,” she explained, her words tumbling out before the other witch could possibly speak, “but it gives you an idea of the way the crystals would catch the light.” Pansy reached out, putting her fingertips gently on the page, with the intent of pulling it back to improve it. “I could also add -”

“No. It’s perfect! Don’t change anything,” Ginny cut her off. “I love it.”

It seemed Pansy would be getting her coup after all.

She rang everything up, chatting a bit more about the particulars of the necklaces, and Ginny agreed to return in two days to pick them back up. Immediately wrapping the newly purchased scarf around her own neck, Ginny left with the promise, “I’ll see you again soon, Pansy.”

* * *

 

The sun had barely made it over the horizon, when Lavender awoke to an owl tapping on her bedroom window. Recognizing the bird as Pansy’s, she begrudgingly pulled off her blankets and went to open the window. After reading the short note attached to a sketch, Lavender glanced back at her bed with a longing sigh. There went her plans for a relaxing lie-in.

Within the hour she was dressed and sitting at her kitchen table, eating a slice of toast thickly coated with marmalade. On one side of her plate sat a steaming mug of coffee, on the other a notepad. Lavender tapped a pen against the pad, thinking about everything she needed to accomplish in a short time. The full moon was only three nights away; Pansy could not have possibly managed to pick a less convenient time to dump a lot more work in her lap.

There was no question on whether she could create the necklaces Pansy had come up with for Ginny. The design was actually quite simple, although the end effect would be stunning. She would only need to visit one store in order to buy more crystals. The rest of the materials were already in her work area.

“Merlin,” she sighed, setting the pen down and picking up her mug. Since the attack, she was not much of a morning person. Late nights were easy for her, but the early morning work hours that Pansy seemed to thrive on were difficult to deal with. Lavender rubbed her temple as she sipped her black coffee. Standing, she told herself, “Best to get on with it, since I’ll be out all night on the full moon...”

By lunchtime, she had a mannequin set up by her jewelry-making table. Fabric was draped around it in an approximation of the second-hand description Pansy had owled for the neckline of the dresses. Hundreds of small crystals were grouped by their various sizes in open jars lined up for easy access. Her spool of thinnest wire lay nearby, along with other implements. With a swish and flick of her wand, Lavender began levitating and trying out different arrangements of crystals.

As expected, she heard Pansy arrive after teatime. “I'm in the workroom,” Lavender called out, before going back to work on some holiday-themed drop-bead earrings. “I bought more sunglasses from that Armenian bloke today, like you asked. And I found some adorable slip dresses and bohemian tops.”

“And the necklaces?”

“See for yourself,” Lavender said as Pansy walked into the room. She paused from her project to watch Pansy’s reaction.

Pansy walked up to the mannequin, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch the necklace that hung on it. “It’s perfect,” she said quietly. “You captured my thoughts exactly. I don’t even know how you do it.”

Lavender beamed at the praise. “The other one is here on the table. They’re slightly different, just like the shawls. I hope that’s okay?”

“I think that is going to work out nicely,” Pansy told her. Moving next to Lavender, she picked up the second necklace, swiveling it slightly to watch how it caught and refracted the light. “These really are incredible.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re amazing, you know that, right?”

Praise was not something Lavender was used to, although Pansy had been free with it for months now. _Maybe I won’t ever get used to it_ , she thought as she felt her face heat up. She shifted in her chair so she could hide her face from her friend while making it seem like she was getting back to work on the earrings.

It did not work, as Pansy gently pushed Lavender’s hair behind her ear, then put a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to turn back to face her.

“I’m serious,” she said.

“I know,” Lavender replied, the heat in her cheeks intensifying under Pansy’s earnest gaze.

Pansy must have sensed it was getting too much for Lavender to bear, because she gave her shoulder a squeeze, then moved away to look at the new clothing. Taking one of the slip-dresses off of the rack, she held it against her body, staring down at the hem.

“Muggle women actually wear things this short outside of their bedrooms?” she asked looking at Lavender with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. It was the perfect tension breaker. Lavender started to giggle. Godric, how long had it been since she last giggled?

“How about more knit pieces? Will you be working on those?” Pansy inquired in a light tone, hanging the dress back up. She was still looking through the rest of the rack, so she missed the way Lavender stiffened as she stopped laughing.

Reminding herself that it was a legitimate question, Lavender worked to control her unease. She was aware of Pansy taking an inordinate interest in the embroidery on one of the tops.

“I only have a bit of that yarn left. Maybe enough for a scarf, but I can’t replace the shawls right now,” she said. “I won’t be able to get any more for a few days.”

Pansy finally turned around to look at Lavender, giving her a hard stare. “I have a feeling that after this wedding, people are going to be looking to copy the style for Solstice, Yule, and New Year’s Eve events. We’re going to need them. Will you be able to procure more in time?”

Feeling her palms get clammy, Lavender resisted the urge to wipe them on her jeans. She willed herself to maintain eye contact with her business partner. “It won’t be a problem, Pansy,” she answered with a bit more bite than she had intended. She wondered what Pansy had seen in her face when the other witch flinched.

“Of course, I didn’t mean anything,” Pansy hastily declared. “It’s only… well… Do you need any help?”

“No.”

* * *

 

Triumphantly, Pansy read the entire series of articles the _Daily Prophet_ had run, regaling their readers with every minute detail of the newlywed Potters’ big day. She read the section on the fashions from the wedding party twice. Both the necklaces and shawls were mentioned, with her shop credited for creating them. It was going to be a good day.

It turned out to be a bloody _busy_ day. The sales were amazing. Thank Salazar she had hired a part-time person to help out. Dennis Creevey was fresh out of Hogwarts, and he had come to her not long after the shop opened, asking if she needed help. She had hesitated to make a commitment, but when she owled him later, he was surprisingly quick to say yes. It seemed Dennis truly enjoyed fashion, and saw working at her shop as a first step towards something.

“Are you sure we can’t get more of those Angora items in sooner? Only being able to get some once or twice a month is going to be difficult to tell people,” he asked at the end of the night, as they worked to straighten up the sales floor. “It was already tough enough telling people we were sold out this afternoon - I don’t fancy spending days doing that.”

“I expect you to tell customers _nothing_ about our sourcing or shipment timing, Dennis. Scarcity makes them worth more,” Pansy reminded him as she folded jumpers. “And it isn’t like they didn’t still walk out with something when we told them we didn’t have any more shawls or scarves, or even mittens, in stock. You wrote down everyone’s name to keep them on a list, just like I told you, right?”

Dennis nodded. Still, as he fiddled with a display of various-sized boxes meant to hold trinkets, he pushed, “I still don’t see why we can’t have her knit a batch quicker than two weeks from now, though. We’re barely going to have them in time for Christmas. At the rate I was adding names to the waitlist today, it will be a few feet long by then.”

Moving to the ring display case, Pansy pulled a slip of parchment from her pocket to perform a quick inventory. “When the time comes, I’ll be the one deciding which names we may want to move up to the top of that list. Make sure you let me look it over before you send any owls, you understand?”

“Yes, Miss Parkinson.”

 _Miss Parkinson._ A warm feeling suffused Pansy’s chest. She could get used to people calling her that again.

* * *

 

“Where will you be going, this time?” Pansy asked Lavender a week later, as they sat drinking a glass of wine together. Insisting they deserved it, Pansy had talked her into coming over to her flat on Saturday night. Pansy was trusting Dennis to open the shop for the first time on his own.

There was music playing softly on the wireless and Lavender felt quite relaxed. Maybe it was time she let someone really in. Just a little. Maybe it could help her start to let go of some of her anger.

“Sweden.”

She watched Pansy shift, then set her wine down on the coffee table, doing it so slowly, it didn’t make a sound. And Lavender had excellent hearing.

The stylish witch leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other, looking for all of the world as if she was ready for an excellent tale. “There’s a lot of forest in Sweden,” she offered with a smirk. “Plenty of space for running… or hunting.”

This struck Lavender as exceedingly funny. She laughed, deciding perhaps Pansy was too clever for her own good. It was part of what she liked about her.

Yes, Sweden certainly _did_ contain plenty of forest that was exactly good for both of those things… and in fact, they happened to have an abundance of werewolves, as well...


End file.
